The Basilisk Opens Its Eyes
by Elisca
Summary: Arin Thorne considers herself as an evil person, and she has learned to accept that. Her own parents send her away because they are afraid of her. But at Hogwarts she meets someone unexpected, someone who seems to know more about her than even she herself does. But he has his own dark secrets and soon the Basilisk opens its eyes...
1. Chapter 1

The tall grandfather clock in the salon chimes its mechanical little tune, just like it did to every hour, every day, and every year of my life I have lived in this castle of a mansion. Believe me, I hate comparing myself to a princess stuck in some goddamn tower waiting for Prince Muggle Charming to ride by on his mighty steed and carry me off to his faraway kingdom, but…well I guess I am. Fuck.

The feather I hold way to tightly scratches the paper scroll maliciously, as if it were trying to stab whoever gave me this essay to write. My thoughts wander off to a distant place, where I could stab out Professor Gauntley's eyes and still inherit father's fortune. What a perfect world it would be. Rich and evil and oh so lonely. Thinking about it, that's actually exactly what my life is like right now, so it would do me no good anyway. Picking up my wand, I point it at the feather. I feel it transform between my fingers, twisting and turning, hissing at me. I let the snake slide over the desk and drop on the thickly carpeted floor where it glide away soundlessly.

"Come back," I whisper, but the snake ignores me. Of course it does, I'm not Alacair and it owes me no allegiance. With a frustrated flick of a wand the snake is a feather again, and lazily floats into my hand. "I will teach you obedience, some day," I hiss, and continue writing.

A familiar pair of feet comes thundering down the staircase, skipping the last step and landing as elegantly as a toad tossed into boiling water at the bottom. I can feel her eyes watching me, wondering whether it's even worth the breath. She can see I'm doing school work, even if her little eight-year-old head doesn't quite understand the meaning of that word. Honestly, I'm not sure whether Diana can even read.

She takes a deep panting breath, before spluttering "Doyouwannadosometing?"

"Like what?" I don't look up.

"I don't know. Play wizard chess, look for secret rooms, ride our broomsticks. You've been working on that for forty-three minutes now and I'm bored" The last part escapes in an annoying little whine and she puts on her pouty face that works so well around grown ups. Her whitish blonde hair is all tousled and her forehead and hands are covered in sooth.

"What the hell, Diana. You've been playing around in the fireplace again, haven't you?" With a zip of my wand the sooth is gone and her hair looks somewhat normal again. She frowns at me.

"I hate when you do that"

"Too bad" I don't even know why I'm so snippy around her, but since she's basically the only person in the world who takes honest interest in me I almost feel obliged to talk to her, even if it's just silly little girl stuff. "You look like some Mudblood tramp. Miss Higgins should lock you in the sulking cupboard" That old nanny is loosing her sting, which is exactly what my parents hired her for. I remember her chasing Alacair up and down the stairs with a broom, and locking us in our "sulking cupboard's" when we were having a fight. Now she's an old kind woman who reads stories and shit like that. Pathetic.

"Miss Higgins will never do that to me, she told me that," Diana says.

"Oh did she?"

"Yes, she said you and Cairy were evil little brats and that you got what you deserved! But not me, I'm a good child" She stems her hands on her hips and smiles at me gleefully. I roll my eyes and shift my attention back to the paper.

"You're boring," she says after a while.

"You're getting nothing of father's wealth, so shut up"

"That's not true!" I seriously feel like throwing her out of the window, when she starts screaming and thrashing her little fists in the air. "Not true, not true! Daddy loves me more than he ever loved you or Alacair, that's why he's sending you off next week! Because you're evil and he doesn't want you to get his money. He said so to Mummy, I heard them talking…" Her voice dies as I tower over her. Shiny blue eyes, just like mine, with long sleek hair, just like mine.

She is afraid of me. I realize that now. Just like father and mother and everybody else. They think I'm a heartless monster, _me_, the pure blood fanatics that murdered _my _brother, their own son. Normal families don't do that. Normal families have love and warmth. Neither a quality I possess. Did Alacair possess them? Or was it just his unbendable stubbornness, his hatred toward the Thornes that drove him that far?

It doesn't matter, the outcome was the same.

I sit back down and lean over the school work.

There's a lot to make up before I go to Hogwarts.


	2. Chapter 2

King's Cross is everything I ever imagined. Loud and smoky, packed with wizards and witches of all ages. Parents accompanying their first years to the scarlet wagons, older students running about to meet their friends, and me, Arin Thorne, as lost as never before in the middle of all this chaos. I want to run away, hide from the crowds, hide from the curious glances that are currently being thrown at me from all directions. But my shiny black shoes stay planted near the red brick wall as I wait for Professor Gauntley to return. He brought me here by floo powder, and went off to load up my suitcases. Did he leave without saying goodbye? Angry at how much I let that bother me, I shove my hands deep into my coat pockets and glower at the ground. I don't need that oaf.

Talking about oafs, a giant of a boy stumbles by, carrying a very large and bulging suitcase over his head, where it is well out of the way of everyone around him.

"'Scuse me, 'scuse me," he mutters loudly, easily whacking over two witches standing in front of me. They hiss and cuss, and he apologizes bluntly, turning a deep wine red. I grin, silently watching the idiot clamber into the next wagon, making a bigger fool out of himself with every step he makes. A quiet laugh cuts through the noise on the platform, and I turn to see a boy staring at me. His dark eyes glisten with mean amusement. For some reason I feel like he isn't really laughing at the oaf, but at me. I don't blush- this is something I have never done- but something pinches my guts as I bluntly stare back. But at that moment Professor Gauntley blocks my view.

"Here, Miss Thorne," he says, quickly handing me a small leather pouch. "This is for your trip and the first few days"

"Thank you," I say, gazing over his shoulder. The boy is gone.

"I think you shall find Hogwarts a nice change to London. No bombs" He makes a gesture as if to cover his ears. Pathetic little moose.

"Tell me, Gauntley, since when do you care about the wars of muggles? Why would anyone?"

He swallows, but nods. The steam engine lets out a sharp whistle and all the students remaining on the platform shuffle towards the train. I bow my head, then turn to follow the crowd.

There are no empty compartments. I curse myself for waiting so long as I follow the long file of students through the narrow corridor. Each compartment is full to the brim with loud, chattering morons. Even mystery boy sits amidst his laughing friends. His compartment is even fuller than most, which I try not to notice.

But of course, there is one option. I open the compartment door and reluctantly slide in. Even though there is only one person sitting there, there isn't much space. I sit opposite to the oaf, making sure there is enough distance between me and his patched up trousers. He doesn't say anything, which I'm thoroughly thankful for, and we just sit there, me reading a book, him feeding little brown leaves to something very alive in his opened suitcase. I press myself harder against the window.

Most of the ride flies by quickly, especially when the oaf starts snoring quietly in his corner.

Suddenly he jerks awake, looking at me excitedly. "Are we there yet?"

Of course not, you fool, or have the wheels stopped? "No"

"Oh, ok" He leans back. After a second he says "I'm Rubeus, by the way. Rubeus Hagrid. Are you a new student?"

Did I in any way signal I felt the need for conversation? Did I? Because in case I did I would really like to know so I can fix that next time. "Yes"

"What's your name?"

"Arin Thorne" I hope the last name will end the conversation, and it does.

He makes an awkward little nodding gesture that tells me he's heard of us. I wonder what he's heard, whether it's as bad as reality, or even worse.

For the second time today, I grin.


	3. Chapter 3

The train comes to a squeaky halt, and I stare out into the darkness, feeling far too excited than I actually should. After all, this is my exile. The dimly illuminated platform casts light on tall rows of trees, and in the distance a shimmering light breaks the night. A lake? I lean in closer, until my nose touches the cold glass. Students are swarming out of the wagons, and getting in carriages drawn my skeleton horses. Thestrals, of course. Ugly things, but smart.

The icy wind on the platform cuts under my coat and whips the loose hair into my face. I should have left my braid in. Students are all around me, hurrying to get a seat on one of the nearest carriages to get out of the wind. Even though it's a rather grim welcome, most of them seem excited, laughing and chattering as teenagers seem to do so often. I stand aside for a while, slowly edging toward one of the thestrals. It snorts weakly and turns its hollow eyes on me, apparently aware I can see it. I wonder how many people know about them. None of them seem to be paying them any attention, and since most of them probably can't see them at all, why should they? It is for the wretched and poor, a bad omen. I carefully reach out to touch the thestral's nose and it lays it's bony head in my palm.

"Strange," I hear a voice behind me. I know this sounds weird, but I know exactly who is talking, even before I turn around. "I normally wouldn't give much for rumors. But you seem just as psychotic as every brain-dead idiot on the train told me so far. 'How should they know,' I though, 'they don't know her any better than I do myself' No one does. But here she is, Arin Thorne, petting the air in front of a carriage" My hand tickles for the wand tucked away inside my robe as he smirks at me in that unnerving fashion.

Instead I smile back, icy cold and unreachable. "There is a hint of truth in every rumor"

"Good to know" He nods at the carriage. "Mind to join me?"

I climb after him into the carriage. With a flick of his wand the doors flip shut. A normal girl might be a little uneasy with this, as the carriage obviously is intended for more than two people, but all it does is intrigue me more. I look out of the window while he watches me silently and pretend not to notice.

"Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself" He smiles shyly. "I'm Tom Riddle" He holds out his hand and we shake.

"Arin Thorne," I say, although he knows that already. "Who died?"

"What are you talking about?" He raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. The skeletal horses. You could see them too"

"What skeletal horses?" He shakes his head with apparent confusion. "You really are crazy"

"Oh, shut up. I know you saw them too. Who did you see die?"

His smile falters and he swallows. "Nobody"

"Liar"

"Nobody! Honest!" He raises his hands defensively, but something in his voice has changed. Less mocking. He sounds serious, like he's telling the truth. I frown.

"How can you see them then?"

"I don't know" Tom wiggles his eyebrows and I sigh, staring back out of the window. Rain is now drumming against the window panes, running in thick streams down the muddy path we're following. He follows my gaze, and for a while we sit in silence. I'm curious and don't want to stop questioning him about the thestrals, since he obviously knows about them, even if he won't admit it. But something tells me Tom Riddle's secrets are well guarded and he would never give in to nagging. So I bite my tongue and wait as the silence stretches out between us, until it is almost painful. Small talk. Not something I ever had to learn in those long sixteen years in my tower. Nobody until now was worth wasting breath on. I rake my brain for something worth mentioning, but there's nothing but books and lame stories on my mind. How come I even care? Why do I let this get to me like that? Angry with myself, I fold my arms across my face and resist the urge of making eye contact. From the corner of my eye I can see him suppressing a sly grin. Something gold flashes on his robes and I blink.

"You're a prefect?" I say, wondering whether his father has any connections in the ministry. Where does the name Riddle come from? Maybe it's a pureblood name from America.

"Yes," he says in a bored voice.

"Protecting the young ones," I say mockingly.

He grimaces. "Kids don't like me. But teachers do"

Yep, his father is high in the ministry.


	4. Chapter 4

It's not hard to spot the Slytherin table, draped in green and silver, by far the quietest. The others tables laugh and chat so excitedly that the Headmaster Armando Dippet raises one of his sparse eye brows as he overhears them discussing the exact texture of Professor Slughorn's mustache. A cloud of laughter erupts at the Hufflepuff table as someone spills pumpkin juice over a classmate. Apparently the first years have already been sorted, because the sorting hat is currently being passed around by the teachers, who all put it on their heads while the sorting hat complains loudly about not being taken serious, Professor Dumbledore belongs into GRYFFINDOR.

I avoid the curious glances from all over the hall and try to focus on not tripping as the volume in the room suddenly drops and all you can hear are my shoes clacking down the aisle. I quickly sit down at an empty spot, next to two girls who have just been talking but now have paused their conversation to glower at me.

"Staring is rude," I hiss in their direction and they look away quickly. I desperately hope this moment will be over soon, but to my horror Professor Dippet stands up and raises a hand for attention.

"Students," he says in that whispy manner of his, his weak voice barely withstanding the strain of having to shout through the entire hall. "Please welcome our new student this year, Arin Thorne, a charming young witch of the Thorne family" Of course he has to rub my heritage under everyone's noses. "She will be residing in the Slytherin house, where I expect her to receive a warm welcome. Our prefects will help her find her classes if she needs help. Is that understood, Miss Crabbe and Mr. Riddle?"

"Yes, sir," a haughty blonde down the table replies. I can see Professor Dippet's beady little eyes searching the table for his second prefect, but he says nothing. Other students mutter to each other, "Where's Tom?" I scan the table, but he's nowhere to be found. How odd, I saw him follow the stream of students up to the castle after we got out of the carriage. Why would he skip–oh never mind, this is Tom Riddle. Who knows what he's up to. But just as the headmaster has seated himself in his chair, the doors to the great hall burst open and Riddle comes marching on through. Unlike me, he shines in the attention of this unexpected appearance. Greeting the headmaster with a courteous nod, he heads straight for our table, where his friends have saved him a seat.

"Where were you, Tom?"

"Yeah, you missed the speech"

He laughs, his dark eyes flashing with a strange warmth. "Yes, who wouldn't want to miss that old fool babbling in front of a horde of idiots and children, telling them exactly what rules to break this year" They snicker with him, unaware they themselves are the idiots and children.

"Anyway, what were you doing?"

He sighs, waving off the question. "I was held up by Professor Parkinson, she wanted to know why I wasn't taking Astronomy this year"

"Oh, so now you're fucking teachers," a girl to his right remarks bitterly. She sits rigidly, her long dark hair piled on top of her big round head.

"No need to get jealous, Walburga," someone snickers. She stands up angrily, throwing her silverware back on her plate and storms out of the hall. Tom wrinkles his forehead in concern.

"Bulstrode, don't talk to her like that"

"She's fucking psycho, that one," Bulstrode growls.

"I know," Tom's straight face begins to crumble. "That's why you shouldn't make her angry like that" He catches me staring at him, and smiles his winning smile I didn't even know existed. He was so different on the train. So serious and unreachable. Since when is he such an asshole?

I'm surprised by how cheated I feel. It's probably the most stupid, naïve thing I've ever thought, but somehow it felt like we were alike. Both outcasts, both indifferent to the world around us. Now suddenly he's popular with friends crowding around him and girls getting upset over him.

And I hate it.

I really do.

The first week flies by in an overwhelming rush of voices and faces, staring, twisting their neck to get a better look at me. I feel constantly watched, during classes, at lunch time, passing through corridors as I slowly learn my way around Hogwarts. I figure out which turning stair case goes where at what specific hour, and which step to avoid at all costs. Also, that the password to the Slytherin common room changes almost every day and which teachers will take names over brains and which won't. Not that it matters much that I'm a pureblood, people hate me anyways. There's a very good reason why Thorne's are taught at home.

A loud crash in the common room tears me out of my studies. On the other side of the fire place Trevon Bulstrode and some of his friends are doubled over laughing. They're carrying a bulky metallic case, no, an armor through the entrance. Crash, crash. A pitiful yelp comes from the inside.

"Lemmiout," someone wails. "Lemmiout" Sobs vibrate up through the helmet.

"God, she's annoying," Lucretia Black, a tiny fifth-year with long brown braids says, rolling her eyes. "Shut up, Myrtle!" The sobs only grow louder, and Myrtle hammers against the inside of the armor.

"Who can make it dance?" Trevon Bulstrode asks gleefully, his eyes quickly flickering to me. "Hey, Thorne girl, you any good at magic?"

"Shhh, don't talk to her," Walburga fake-whispers. "Or she'll turn you to stone with her icy glare" She giggles loudly, even though she's the only one. Trevon looks rather annoyed.

"Make her dance," he demands.

I fold my book carefully, making sure the bookmark is in it. They watch me silently as I get up. Drawing my wand I step up to the wailing armor. "Dance?"

"Yeah," he grunts, his dark eyes gleaming maliciously.

I breathe deeply, lifting my wand. Through the crack between neck piece and helmet I can see a pair of watery eyes staring at me. Myrtle stifles another sob, just as I let the wand fly through the air in one fluid motion. All at once the armor makes a jiggling motion and its feet come alive, tapping up and down, flipping here and there. Myrtles legs hit the inside of the armor in her maniac dance, creating a rather rhythmic. She screams, loudly and hilariously screechy, causing everyone in the room to crack up. Bulstrode's face is deep red with laughter by the time I aim my wand at him.

"_Tarantallegra_,_"_ I mutter and with a loud yell his feet start jumping around uncontrollably, as he joins Myrtle in her horrible little dance.

"Stop it!" he screams, fumbling for his wand that's lying on the floor beside him. "Stop it!"

"I thought you liked to dance," I say innocently. "And Myrtle shouldn't dance without a partner"

He lets out a roar of rage and lunges for me, only to trip over his jerking feet and smash his nose on the carpet. "Thorne," he mumbles through a blood-filled mouth. "You…regret…I'll…make…you…pay…for…" His feet kick around uselessly, making it impossible for him to reach the wand only a few feet out of his reach.

"You're in trouble," Arsenius Yaxley says through tears of laughter. "He's going to kill you. And I'm serious, you better get out of here before the curse wears off"

"I'm not afraid of the little git," I tell him, although now I can't help but wonder if I've just made myself an absolutely unforgiving enemy. Trevon Bulstrode does not strike me as the type to easily forget this sort of thing, especially with his friends here to remind him all the time.

"You should be," Arsenius says. "Actually, I would run" I don't like the sound of his voice at all, which is why for the first time in my life, I give in to fear and run. Flying over the steps to the entrance in the wall, I push myself through quickly and sprint up the stairs, out of the dungeons. There's no doubt the curse has worn out by now, and Bulstrode could be right behind me. I'm sure I could take him out easily, but even though his friends laughed quite hard at his embarrassment, I'm sure they'd stand behind him in a fight. Thundering footsteps echo behind me, and I run even harder. The long corridors are only dimly lit now after dinner and barely any students are to be seen. The few that I do encounter quickly step aside to avoid being run over by me.

Cursing myself for bringing this upon me–and after all, who wouldn't have expected Bulstrode to react to it like that–I pass an empty great hall.

Suddenly I'm outside, sprinting over the damp grass, toward the Forbidden Forest. He won't follow me in there.

Not even Trevon Bulstrode could have been so stupid.


	5. Chapter 5

I realize what I've done the moment the trees swallow me, blocking out all light from the castle. The forest is silent, and not a branch is stirring. I hold my breath and wait for the blood to stop rushing in my ears.

This was not a good idea. There are supposed to be creatures living in this forest, monsters.

I breathe, "_Lumos,_" and the tip of my wand lights up, casting a cold light on the tree trunks surrounding me. My feet crunch over leaves–at least I hope they are leaves–as I look around, curious nevertheless to find out what this place is like. But my the wand's light isn't strong enough to reveal more than a few feet around, and the rest of the forest disappears into darkness. Afraid that if I look at a spot for too long, I might find a pair of eyes staring back at me, I move around quickly, making barely a noise. Not that I don't know they aren't looking at me. Why else would it be so quiet?

In the distance, off towards the castle, a door slams shut. A gravelly voice calls out, "Who's there?" Oh no. That's Ogg, the mean old gamekeeper. Wouldn't that just be perfect, being caught by that old moron and expelled, after barely a month at school.

I quickly hiss, "_Nox_"

"Na na na, I know yer in there, could see yer wand bright and clear. Come out now, come out and the punishment'll be reasonable. I'm not a monster" If Ogg thinks that's reassuring, he is mistaken. I take a few cautious steps back into the safety of the woods.

"Come out, yer miserable little brats! I know what you did! I heard you here before. Yer gonna pays for killing those roosters! I tell ya, you'll be on the train home by tomorrow!"

A bright light blinds my eyes, and I stumble backwards, turning and running as fast as I can. I can hear Ogg crashing through the woods behind me like an angry bull.

I have to get away. If he catches me now, he'll just assume I killed his stupid birds and they'll expel me. I can't go home, what would my parents say? What would they do to me? Panic rises in my chest as I blunder through the woods, arms outstretched, trying to avoid the trees. But it's no good. I can't help myself from slamming head first into a branch, nearly stabbing my eye out, and falling over into a small hollow under the roots, probably the nesting place for some animal. Ogg is yelling threats, but he's fallen behind. It's impossible to pursue someone in this forest. I lie still, curled up in my hiding spot, desperately hoping he'll give up.

He does, but it takes what seems like hours. Several times he walks right past me, nearly stepping on my knee, but doesn't find me. Only after I'm certain that he's gone back to his hut do I dare to move.

It hurts. My face stings where branches scratched me and my back is stiff from staying in that uncomfortable position for so long. My robes are torn and dirt-stained, but almost invisible in the night. Suddenly the forest is dipped into silvery light, almost blinding compared to the darkness before. I stare up through a gap in the canopy, and see the full moon shining down on me with all its power.

"Nooooo," I moan, but quickly shut up after that. I'm not stupid, I know there are probably werewolves around. Werewolves that just heard two humans running through their territory, basically offering themselves up on a silver platter. But before I can even think of going back, I hear the scream.

There is absolutely nothing logical in what I do next. Instead of fleeing, I head straight out for the horrifying sound. Some unseen force, pure instinct perhaps, tells me there is more to this scream than just a blood-thirsty werewolf. The stench hits me instantly as I stumble through the shrubbery. Rotting, smelly flesh wafts off of the growling beast, making me choke. I hold back a cough, nearly suffocating on it.

And there it is.

The foul, smelly creature strides back and forth in front of an old oak tree, like a dog whose toy is stuck in the braches. Someone is up there in the tree, I realize, for although I can't see him, his heavy and exhausted breaths seem to echo across the entire forest. The werewolf lunges itself at the oak tree, its long fangs snapping for the boy's ankles before its claws slide off and it looses its grip again. By the way the boy dodges the strike I can tell the two have been playing this game for quite some time.

The wind is obviously and grotesquely in my favor, meaning the wolf hasn't noticed me yet. What curse can bring down a werewolf? I've heard the stunning spell doesn't work on them. So what then? I feverishly rake my mind for something helpful, something I read in one of those million books, but my mind is blank. I only have a few seconds, then he'll see me and I'm dead. Okay, okay, what do I do? What spell? I curse my parents for not sending me to Hogwarts earlier. I bet those kids learn how to defeat a werewolf on their first day.

Suddenly the werewolf goes still. Freakishly still. It's sensed me. I'm dead.

It turns its large snout in my direction, its yellow eyes gleaming in the moonlight. It stands up on its hind legs, only to crouch back down, ready to attack. It jumps, and my wands flies up to meet it.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

It lands right on top of me, a disgusting mess of fur and blood. I fall back, knocking the wand out of my hand and landing on a sharp rock. I yelp in pain and push the carcass off of me. It's shrinking, loosing its hair and long teeth, until at last there's just a person lying there on the pine needle bed, a young woman, barely out of Hogwarts. I stand up and stare down at her open, innocent eyes.

A loud thump tells me that tree boy has left his tree. He takes a few shaky steps, then falls to his knees and over on his face. It's hard to take my eyes off the dead woman, but when after a while he still hasn't moved, I walk over on jelly legs and push him on his back, so he can breathe.

"Hello?" I say in a hushed voice, afraid I might attract more werewolves. "Are you also dead?"

"You killed her," he croaks, opening his eyes. A pale blue, the sort that makes you stare, even if you don't really mean to. "You just went on and killed her!" The outrage in his voice sends my head spinning again. I could get into so much trouble for this. Being expelled would be the least of my worries. Azkaban a very likely one.

"You can't tell anyone," I demand.

He pushes himself upright, though he still looks weak. "Or what? You would get your proper punishment for using an unforgivable curse?"

"I was saving your life!"

"You were saving yourself! I saw you" He tries to stand up, but winces and gives up. He pulls off one of his shoes to reveal a blood-soaked sock. I suppress the urge to vomit over my robes and lean against a tree.

"Promise you won't tell anyone," I force my voice to sound calm. "Please"

"You murdered her," he looks at me, his face twisted in pain. I only get what that meant when he starts retching on the ground beside me. "God, I usually have a strong stomach"

"I'll have to kill you too then"

He looks up at me, ghostly pale. It's almost hurtful to see that he actually believes me. "Joking," I say.

"Yeah, sounded a lot like it" He's still giving me that so-are-you-now-a-psychopath look when my gaze falls upon a wand laying near the roots of the oak tree. I pick it up and show it to him.

"Your wand"

"Uh, that's not mine," he says confused.

"Well, whose is it–oh" We both look over at the body of the werewolf, now in human–way too human–form. Neither of us says anything for a while.

"What are we going to do," he says at last, and I collapse on the ground next to him. "Nobody will ever come here, will they?"

"I don't know" The more I think about this, the worse my situation seems to become. "Ogg knows there were students in the Forbidden Forest. They apparently killed his roosters. I bet you he will search the woods in daylight tomorrow to find any pieces of evidence that he could bring to the headmaster"

"But we didn't do that, we were just fooling around. Hazing. You know, what the Quidditch teams do to each other every new school year"

"Hazing?" I shake my head in disbelief. "And you're on the Quidditch team?"

"Yeah," he says, trying hard not to sound as proud as he looks. "Since my second year, I-"

"Who cares?" I snap. "You almost got yourself killed, and now that werewolf is dead!"

"I didn't tell you to kill it! I never even said I needed any help," he replies, shifting on his intact leg to get up. He looses balance and instinctively steps on his other foot. Cursing, he rolls back onto the ground, clutching his leg.

"Why don't you just heal it?" I say, impatiently waiting for him to get up. We need to hurry to get back to the castle before anyone notices where we've gone. Luckily Bulstrode can't tell on me without having to admit what they were doing to that fourth year girl.

"Can't," he says angrily. "My wands gone. I dropped it in the woods"

"Smart move," I smirk, and he rolls his eyes. "_Accio wand!_" After a few seconds we can hear it slashing through the forest, and both parts, first the front and then the back, come flying into my hand"

"My wand!" the boy exclaims in horror. "What am I going to do now?" I hand him the splinters and he looks at them desperately. "Can you fix it?"

"Of course not! Once a wand's broken, it's irreparable. You'll need a new one"

He stares at me for a long time, and I begin to wonder whether he's about to puke again, when suddenly he bursts into laughter.

"Well that's just great, _I _need a new wand? I bet someone thought that would be really funny. Make _me _go up to my father and tell him I broke my wand. Someone must have had a good laugh with that one" He sighs heavily. "He's going to murder me"

Although what he says makes little to no sense to me, I don't ask. I don't care, to be honest. Standing over the dead werewolf woman, I point my wand at her and whisper "_Evanesco_"

"She's gone," he says in disbelief.

"Of course she's gone! Have you ever even attended a transfiguration class?"

"Attended, yes," he says and that stupid smile is back on his face. I really wish I could just make him disappear too, and not worry about having another person running around at Hogwarts who knows what I did. But then again, if he told someone we'd both be expelled, so I guess that's not really a problem.

"_Vulnera Sanentur," _I say, pointing my wand at his foot. We both watch the wounds slowly seal, until his foot only shows three thick scars, covered in blood. "That should do"

He quickly gets up, shaking the leaves off his robes.

"It only got me with its claws, so I won't become a werewolf," he says, trying to reassure himself.

"Of course not," I say, rolling my eyes. "Let's get out of here"


	6. Chapter 6

The night has intensified since I went into the woods, and most of the castle rests in darkness, as the students have gone to bed. We follow the narrow path up to the front doors and pull. Luckily Apollyon Pringle, the caretaker, hasn't made his rounds yet and they are unlocked. We slip in quietly and stick to the shadows in the entrance hall. The portraits whisper their disapproval after us, tut-tut-tutting and murmuring of foolish little brats that sneak about the castle like ghosts. Speaking of ghosts, we are lucky not to encounter Peeves, who is known to hang around the entrance hall at night, waiting for students to come by. At the staircase in front of the great hall our path splits and he nods a silent goodbye as he heads up towards the Gryffindor tower, his new wand, the one we picked off the werewolf, tucked safely away in his robes.

I sneak down the empty corridors, deep in thought of what happened tonight. I killed someone. Granted, it was a werewolf, and a werewolf that was attacking a student, nevertheless she is dead now. And after she died, she looked so human…

"Hello?" A rusty voice calls down the corridor. A faint light drifts around the corner, Pringle's lamp…

Without thinking I make for an empty classroom, careful to shut the door quietly. But a hand stops me. A bolt of panic strikes me, like lighting, until I realize the hand in the door looks way too young to be the old caretaker's. Is it that idiot again? What the hell is he-

But it's Tom Riddle.

"Let me in," he whispers almost soundlessly, and I let go of the door mostly out of shock. Before I know he's closed the door silently behind himself. I back off a step, as he peers through the keyhole, holding a finger to his lips.

"What are you-"

"Shhht!" he hisses sharply, and I shut up. My heart is beating out of my chest. I childishly wonder whether he can hear it.

A long, intense moment of watching an listening goes by, then he straightens up and runs his fingers through his hair. "Close"

"Yeah"

He looks at me, his dark eyes shining in the pale moonlight drifting through the high windows. "Why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same question," I snap, though my voice doesn't sound nearly as strong as I would like it to sound. I want him to know he doesn't scare me.

The gaze intensifies, and for a moment I actually believe the only appropriate next step would be a wizarding duel, but then it's gone, replaced by one of those flashing smiles.

"I couldn't sleep," he lies easily, like he's done it before. "Full moons make me nervous"

He knows. He _knows. _How can he know?

I shake my head. No, of course not. That's silly. How on earth would that be possible…

"Just like you don't come to lunches? Or hang out with your so-called "friends" in the common room? Seriously, you're never around, I only ever see you in class and-"

The look on his face stops me.

"Arin Thorne…," he says slowly, a sly smile creeping over his face. "Is it possible you have been watching me?"

"Not watching. I just notice things," I try to shrug it off. "You're the most interesting person I've ever met" That last one sort of slipped out. But luckily his reaction isn't too humiliating. He laughs quietly, and I know I'm definitely not the first one to tell him that.

"You don't look like an idiot, Arin," he says, looking at the wand in his hands. "You don't strike me as the person who'd go wandering off into the woods to kill some vile half-blood"

"How do you know," I say tonelessly. My chest has constricted into a tight knot, making breathing almost impossible. There is no way he can possibly know that…

"Eh," He shrugs, and the moment looses all its intensity. "I know everything that goes on at Hogwarts. It's my home"

I think about that for a moment, wondering what he's trying to tell me with this. Sometimes I get the feeling he's trying to communicate something with me he isn't putting in his words. There's a deeper meaning to everything he says and no word is placed there without reason.

"What kind of name is Riddle? I've never heard of it before" His glass smile shatters, and the real Tom is back.

"You really want to know?" he says in a low voice. I nod. "Because I just might have to kill you then" Suddenly the tip of his wand is on my rib cage. I resist the urge to jump back, draw my own wand and break up this conversation.

"Yes"

He sighs, then leans in close to tell me.

Everything.


End file.
